


Scorpions' sting

by FinickityinFields123 (lifetheuniverseandeverything42)



Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [3]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Caretaking, Episode: s02e07 Crazy Train, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Team as Family, except really:, short and angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-26 03:22:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21367360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifetheuniverseandeverything42/pseuds/FinickityinFields123
Summary: Walter cuts, the team finds out.Simple hurt/comfort with self-harm.
Relationships: Cabe Gallo & Walter O'Brien, Megan O'Brien & Walter O'Brien, Paige Dineen & Ralph Dineen & Walter O'Brien, Paige Dineen & Walter O'Brien, Ralph Dineen & Walter O'Brien, Sylvester Dodd & Walter O'Brien, Toby Curtis & Paige Dineen & Sylvester Dodd & Cabe Gallo & Walter O'Brien & Happy Quinn, Toby Curtis & Paige Dineen & Sylvester Dodd & Walter O'Brien & Happy Quinn, Toby Curtis & Walter O'Brien, Walter O'Brien & Happy Quinn
Series: Attack of the plot bunny! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776028
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	Scorpions' sting

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote more!!! Not that anyone cares. :-)

Walter sighed as his brain whirred. 

He sat on the side of his bed, the garage was empty – it was early morning, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. And he was alone. Like always.

No, he told himself, he wasn't alone. he had the team, he would always... Have the team.

Walter sighed again and buried his face in his hands.

Slowly, almost as if they were hiding their actions from the rest of the body, his hands drifted sideways to his top bedside drawer.

They opened it without a sound and drew out the slim object that had been concealed there: a small blade.

Walter gazed at it as it caught the dim moonlight seeping in through his window.

It shone unblemished and perfect, the light waves from the local star at the center of the solar system reflecting off the orbiting moon way above the atmosphere shining down through the silicon dioxide of glass in the window and bouncing once more off the bright steel edge to shine into his eye where his brain organised the photons recorded on his retina into an image. An image of a weapon, far less deadly than the a-bombs and nukes they so (worryingly) often worked with. A weapon not of mass-destruction but of a personal one.

Yet another soft exhalation of air left his lips, it drifted across the intervening space to caress his fingers and the sliver of metal they were so carefully grasping, it felt like permission.

Seizing it more forcefully, without a second thought (a rare thing for the man with the 197 IQ) he rolled up his standard purple shirt sleeve and laid waste to his inner forearm – some small part of his brain guiding his raging trigger fingers to avoid any nerves or veins or muscle, not that he really cut that deep.

When he was done, he was breathing heavily, almost gasping from the exertion that was done without moving. His weary eyes slid across the shattered skin of his wrist with a sort of cold abandonment, silently analysing cataloguing and applauding.

He sighed once more and stood, eyes picking up more of a spark to them even as he moved – the blood which had begun to coagulate had shifted with his motions and was now inexorably being pulled down his arm to form little rivulets of scarlet along his wrist and over his palm and down his fingers. He held his hand reverently still, letting the droplets of blood paint his flesh and form their tracks over his digits and nails and then… off, onto the formless grey concrete of his floor.

He barely breathed…

Then he blinked; and stared in growing alarm at the small pool of blood that had accumulated by his feet. His bloody hand clenched into a fist and panic started to rise like a flood within him as he heard the sounds of the team entering to start the day.

Left with no other option Walter strode hurriedly to his bathroom to rinse off the slightly tacky blood covering his arm and quickly bandage up his recent violence, covering it from both himself and any one else.

Painstakingly, he splashed water around the sink to make sure no sign of the blood he had just splattered it with remained; then he turned, rolling his sleeve down jerkily and buttoning it securely.

As he checked his indigo shirt for any sign of his previous activities, he became aware of another presence in the loft with him. Sharply looking up his harried eyes stared shocked at his entire team stood there watching him.

Paige looked confused and maybe a little concerned, Happy seemed angry (but really who could tell), Sylvester was anxious - but somehow more anxious for _him_, not himself – and Toby had his ‘I-am-analysing-you-and-neither-of-us-will-like-what-I-have-found’ face on.

Caught like a deer in the headlights, Walter could not process what was happening in this moment. His eyes glazed as he looked at them and they looked back at him their shared concern mounting until Paige – of course it was Paige – took a step forward.

As she approached, Walter unconsciously took a step back and Paige halted, throwing a worried and uncertain look back at the team. At a gesture from Toby accompanied by a frown, she proceeded on.

But as she rounded the corner of the bed – messy and unmade, the sure sign of a sleepless night and an inattentive morning – and Walter stepped back even further, her eyes alighted on the darkening puddle of red decorating the cold concrete like a firework does the night-sky.

“Walter!” she cried in shock and fear, her raw emotions beckoning in the assembled others like a siren’s call. Walter stood there silent and statue-like, not saying a word as the team crowed round both him and his bloody spill.

“Toby,” Paige urged, her question unvoiced but still clear. The hat wearing doctor ignored her however, to peek at his motionless friend. His eyes widened as he took in 197’s stance, glimpsing the emotions smouldering just behind his tired eyes and threw a glance back at the slowly drying pool of blood.

“Everyone out!” he shouted, “Doctors orders.” Mild protests filled the air momentarily, but with hurried looks being sent at both Walter and the concerning puddle; they ceased quickly, and the teammates all trooped out and went downstairs.

Watching them go, Toby felt the quiet stare of giant IQ behind him, he slowly turned around to face his buddy who was now ostentatiously staring at the ground - or the significant red splash.

As Toby let out a gentle sigh, Walter jerked upright to meet his worried eyes with his own terrified and hurting ones. He took in a ragged shaky breath and opened his mouth to speak when Toby shushed him mildly, a half frown was the response.

But as Toby slowly – as one approaches a wild animal – took hold of Walter’s right arm (outwardly calm despite the flinch it brought) and guided him softly down to sit on the side of the dishevelled bed; Walter’s defensive shield crumbled, and he hid his face in his hands.

His position was so like the one he had taken up not an hour before Walter almost thought he was back there again – and he had never believed in time travel before that, curious.

But the solid and corporeal hand resting on his shoulder told him that this time however, he was _not_ alone.

Raising slightly reddened eyes to meet his friend’s wordlessly, Walter breathed deeply and turned to the resident Doc, who was sat beside him patiently waiting for his patient to be ready.

“Toby, I-” Walter began in a broken voice, but his friend cut him off.

“Just show me.” He told him, gentle but insistent. Biting his lip to stop the brimming words of justification from pouring out, Walter gazed down at his securely buttoned shirt sleeve without a sound. Toby watched him quietly, his sharp eyes noting how softly his pal gripped the edge of the material and the way his exhausted expression tightened as he stared at the purple cloth covering his forearm. “Walt-” he murmurs, hesitant and sad “I wouldn’t ask unless I needed to.”

With a choked sob and a brisk nod, 197 efficiently unbuttoned the sleeve and rolled it tightly to his elbow – baring his bandaged arm with the stark white marred by vibrant red in a series of alarming splotches not unlike that of a dalmatian, just in Hell’s colour scheme.

With a sigh, not really of disappointment – at least not with Walter – but more of ‘entering-doctor-mode’, he unwrapped the bloody gift his friend proffered numbly to him with a bland expression.

He briefly exposed the myriad of vicious cuts slashing up his friend’s wrist, then upon checking them for size and depth, calmly asked if he had cleaned them. With the affirmative received, he rebandaged the appendage and allowed Walter to jerkily roll his sleeve back down – noting that he did not rebutton it however.

The pair sat there stiffly on the side of the bed, stationary for some time, until a call from Paige beckoned them downstairs. In tandem they approached the staircase and descended, first Walter then Toby – watching him worriedly from behind.

As they reached the assembled team, genii and ‘normals’ alike noting their expressions (however cold Walter’s tried to be) and the unbuttoned state of Walter’s left shirt sleeve. The genius in the room pieced matters together relatively quickly with the others catching up in due course. None wanted to think the worst, had occurred nor of their boss and friend – but all mentally took precautions in case the truth was as they privately feared, though some less consciously than others. Of course, none of this was spoken, so in silence the Doc and 197 joined the team in gathering around the monitors for an update on a simple mission involving extensive coding and, for lack of a better word, hacking.

Happy caught them up, then Cabe explained the provenance of their latest ‘orders’ with Walter remaining silent through all.

Later that day, after much drama as was the norm for the team, Walter was sat at his desk typing away - he was attempting to write up some case notes but had ended up idly coding in procrastination. It hadn't been an overly complicated day, but Walter was frustrated by how much of it he had spent fiddling with his sleeves and observing his teammates even as they observed him. The team had been ripe with tension, even Walter could sense that much, and he guessed that many convert conversations had occurred that were centred on him - for all the wrong reasons. He knew what he had done was wrong, he did know that, and he also knew that the team - especially Paige - were not about to pretend it did not happen either. Yet another reason to procrastinate further, for while he had work to do he might be able to escape the inevitable conversations that were coming. Walter was surprised he hadn't had a few already, at least from Toby this morning - the threat of annihilation as per usual making side chatter purposeless and dismissible during the last few hours. Walter frowned to himself as he thought over his friends' reactions, not noticing the sidelong looks he was getting as he sat motionless at his desk - burying deeper into his mind. Finally, a hand tapped him on the knee. But it was not Happy with the gruff but rational advice, or Toby with medical jargon, or Paige with a concerned frown, or Cabe (thankfully who had not seen the damage but had no doubt been informed, possibly direct from Toby or Paige - for which Walter almost pitied him) with a stern lecture... Instead it was Ralph, and Walter's frown immediately softened and melted away.

"Walter?"

Clearing his throat, Walter answered, "Yes Ralph?"

"Can I talk to you?" The unsaid words 'in private' clear as the anxious tapping of Walter's fingers on the surface of his desk which echoed hollowly through the Garage and rang the metaphorical bell in the rest of the team's heads. Mouth uncooperative - great start - Walter helplessly nodded and followed the boy up to his loft in the hopeless search for some measure of privacy...

Taking charge in a way that should probably have made Walter sad if he had feelings (_liar_!), Ralph directed the nervous man to sit while he settled himself opposite with a threateningly pensive expression on his young man.

Internally, Walter sighed heavily. Then he turned all of his available attention on the kid like he swore he always would – not to mention had to anyway for fear of mucking up what was to come.

Ralph seemed calm but his eyes kept jittering around the room, constantly scanning and wary. Walter didn’t have the heart to tell him just how little privacy was available here – not to mention the innumerable new ways to spy on him no doubt installed by Happy under the rest of the teams orders/consent after his slip up earlier…

“Walter. Why does everyone think that you are a risk?” the boy-genius asked, surprising Walter so much that he stammered out his reply.

“Who is ‘everyone’?”

“The team.” Ralph gave him a look of ‘come on, be serious’ and Walter gulped nervously.

“Well, wouldn’t it be more efficient to ask them? I can’t tell you what they’re thinking, I’m not Toby!” he joked, his tapping fingers betraying his pretty convincing (he tried to convince himself) light-hearted tone.

“Alright.” Ralph answered, and for a minute Walter thought that was it, that it was over and the kid would let it go.

“Why do you have cuts all up your arm?” The cards were played, the hand was dealt against him and Walter was left clutching at his knees in an effort to remain calm.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The response was plaintive and Walter winced. “Please Walter. What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Ralph looked at him, teeth nibbling his bottom lip as tears began to gather in his eyes, and Walter could do nothing but cave.

“Honest Ralph. I’m fine. There was just a mishap this morning, nothing to worry about – okay?”

But the boy shook his head and Walter gave an inward groan as the topic outright refused to be dropped.

“The team are really worried, well except Toby… And Mom wants to know what’s wrong but she’s too afraid to ask you, well I think she’s too afraid of the response and Happy wants to smash things but won’t because she doesn’t want to piss people off which Happy is never worried about and Cabe keeps talking about doctors and security and restraint and seclusion but Sylvester just keeps repeating ‘don’t leave him alone’ over and over again, and it just feels like the team is a mess and I don’t want it to fall apart and I don’t want Mom to make me leave you guys again, and-” Ralph stopped for breath and unbidden tears spilled over and Walter awkwardly put his hand on his shoulder in an impression of comfort. One part of his mind noticing the single step echoing from the bottom of the stairs and the shushed conversation that presumably halted it. So they were listening; but was Ralph a plant or a ploy or just young and afraid? Walter couldn’t tell and he ground his teeth in frustration.

“Hey, hey! Listen to me.” Walter ordered. “The team is not going to fall apart, everything will be back to normal within a few days – I promise. They are all just worried over nothing. It’ll be okay, Ralph.”

“But what about you?” The child cried. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course!” His forced lightness fell flat and stale into the silence that followed, he could almost feel the disbelief radiating not just from his young audience but from the secretive listeners too. “Look. Maybe not tomorrow, or the day after, but I am going to be okay Ralph. This was just a little mishap, a bump in the road. I’ll be fine within a week, okay?”

“You don’t have to be, you know.” Walter closed his eyes and sighed to himself at the boy’s perceptiveness precisely at a time he didn’t welcome it. He grimaced and forced out the words to reply.

“I know.”

“No you don’t.” Ralph told him sadly, his mom’s emoting shining through his genius like a beacon of hope in the darkness. “But maybe you will. The team will help you.”

“I know that. They mean well but…” he trailed off and Ralph poked his side to prompt him. Walter glanced at him then stared off into the middle distance before continuing. “Some things you have to work out for yourself. Some battles can’t be fought by anyone else. Some demons have to be beaten alone.”

“But not all of them, right?” The hopefulness in the kid’s tone made Walter smile and he ruffled the boy’s hair fondly.

“I guess not. But I don’t need anyone looking to fight my battles for me. And I certainly don’t need anyone trying to help where they aren’t needed or just cannot.” He spoke loudly, projecting his voice towards the stairs as Ralph let out a quiet giggle. His point made, he reflected then added: “But I can always use some good friends to help me through, like you!” Walter grinned, tickling the young genius until his peals of laughter filled the garage.

“Good talk Walter.” Ralph murmured as he extricated himself from the tangle of limbs, wiped his eyes and padded down the stairs. Vaguely Walter could hear Paige’s greeting and gentle interrogation when he reached the bottom.

Then footsteps approached. Walter did not move his head from his hands where it had fallen as the eyes scrutinising him had left, even though a new pair had replaced them in their unforgiving analysis of him.

“What do you want Toby?” 197 ground out through clenched teeth.

“How’d you know it was me?” The surprise in the Dr’s tone was evident and it neatly hid all clues to his purpose here.

“Everyone has a distinctive gait.” The ‘duh’ was implied.

“Right.” Walter could almost hear the nodding. “Come on, arm out.” Doctor’s orders.

With a sigh he complied, and Toby unwrapped the present that he offered before inspecting the healing wounds with a sharp eye. Walter did not miss the assessing glances shot at his face as well as his forearm. Another sigh escaped him and he frowned unintentionally.

“Walter.” A hint of a warning and the frown deepened.

“Are you done?” Walter asked him scathingly, snatching his arm back and yanking down his sleeve once more.

Nodding Toby gazed at him, strangely calm and laidback, before asking a question that sent a shiver down Walter’s spine:

“Any others I should know about?” The question was so casual in tone, despite its content and the implications it gave – Walter sent his friend a fierce look and shook his head angrily.

“Right then.” Toby got to his feet and made to walk away before stopping and looking down at his friend who was deliberately avoiding eye contact, all his body language screaming ‘go away’. “I am in no place to judge and no place to criticise. But you know the risks in what you’re doing and you know all that it suggests – especially to those untrained in psychiatry. You know how this looks Walter.” The lecturing tone began to creep in. “So I don’t need to tell you what the team makes of this, Walter.” He gestured to the ravaged arm before sighing deeply and murmuring: “So I’m here if you need me.” Walter looked up at him, a little shocked but grateful, and nodding Toby exited without another word.

Walter sat there, motionless, for a while. He wasn’t sure he cared how long, which was good because he wasn’t sure how long he stayed there anyway.

Eventually, Cabe began to climb the stairs and Walter registered this fact too late to react.

“Are you still here, son? Have you moved at all in the last 3 hours?” Oh, so that’s how long he’d been sat like this – good to know.

With no visible response, Cabe sat opposite the younger man and began his spiel – only it wasn’t exactly how Walter thought it would be (perhaps Toby had stepped in to spare him the lecture?).

“Son. What you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing with yourself? Or to yourself, I should say.” Walter ignored him but his father-figure pressed on, his interrogation training working against 197 at every turn. “From what Paige and Happy told me of this morning, and from Toby’s assessment, I know the basics. Now how about you tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours.”

“Didn’t Ralph’s little recon mission give you enough intel?” Walter’s word were harsh and a little bitter, aching with rebellious teenage angst as yet unvented.

“Walter.” Like a father, Cabe warned Walter that he was pushing it. Perhaps too far?

“What?” The younger man spat, defiant and as close to raging as the genius got. “Didn’t think I’d talk to you, so thought you’d use the one person I might not tell to fuck off!”

“Walter!” Cabe whipped back; his own anger rising before, suddenly curbed, he slackened and sat back on the couch – a faint smile playing at his lips. Walter scowled at him. “Don’t toy with me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“No.” Walter returned, still raging only quieter now. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“I know that.” Cabe’s response was brimming with patient sympathy and it made Walter want to scream. “I’m not trying to make you tell me anything. But I want you to want to tell me, something or everything. Just talk to me kid.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Woah!” Cabe held up his hands. “Calm down.”

“I am calm.” Walter bit out savagely. “Just leave me alone.”

“I will, but only if you answer one question.” Walter did not reply, only ground his teeth and clenched his fists even as his mind shrieked at him to just open up and _feel_. “How long?”

“How long what?”

“Stop it. How _long_, Walter?”

Mr 197 sighed and muttered: “First time in years. Isolated incident. Nothing to worry about!” He looked up and locked the government agent with a fierce stare. “Okay?”

Cabe seemed pale and concerned. Only as he opened his mouth to reply did Walter realise what he had revealed and cursed himself desperately.

“You’ve done this before?” The tone was forcibly restrained and a weak attempt to be causal.

Biting his lips, Walter did not trust his words so only nodded stiffly.

Cabe sighed and closing his eyes for a second gave a small shake of his head, seemingly to himself in despair. Walter gulped and tapped on his legs, absently tugging on one sleeve even as Cabe re-opened his eyes and trained his gaze on the anxiety-driven movement. Then the older man sighed heavily again.

“Walter. You need to talk about this…” Before he had even finished speaking, Walter was shaking his head and shuffling backward on the couch. “Do you want me to send Happy in, or Paige?” The federal agent pressed, his tone vaguely disconsolate and despondent.

Walter just continued to shake his head. And Cabe sighed.

With one arm reaching out in a signal of comfort that was violently rejected by his son in a tightly-controlled roll of his shoulder to shake it off, Cabe got up and left – leaving Walter by himself once more. Perhaps unwisely...

No longer wanting to wallow any longer in his darker musings, he stood also and made his way to the drawer beside his bed – fumbling around beneath it to the slot where he had tucked a couple of blades months ago. It was empty.

Instantly, without any doubt, Walter knew what had happened and for one of the only times in his life he felt a wave of rage wash over him and his fists clenched. He strode forcefully the stairs and descended with a scowl fixed firmly on his face.

“Walt-” Sylvester began, but his jaw snapped shut when Walter fixed him with a glare (that he did feel a bit guilty about as Sly was by no means the intended focus for his anger).

“Where are they?” 197 ground out, his clear emotions shocking the rest of his team.

He stared fiercely around the room, Paige and Ralph thankfully absent; Cabe stood stock still while Toby and Happy exchanged glances.

“Walt, I get if you’re angry-” Happy began, stepping forwards with both hands raised placatingly – unusually taking the passive route, he must really have them worried.

“I am. Not. Angry.” Walter stated in a low growl. He was incensed. But it would not help to say so, the logical part of his brain yanked on the wheel and regained some measure of control. With a sigh, he let out a long breath and allowed the swirling emotions to flow out of him… “Now where are they?” He locked a strong, but once more emotionally-blank, stare onto Happy; switching it to Toby when she threw a worried look at him. “Well?”

The door banged, Paige returned and froze as she took in the standoff before her.

“Walter?” The ex-waitress asked hesitantly, her voice full of nothing but tender sympathy and kindness and it enraged him.

He did not move to look at her but heard Sly take a few steps towards her – presumably shaking his head in warning. Instead he maintained his focus on the Doc and ignored the others' very presence.

Finally Toby spoke, after a long while assessing him with his sharply piercing doctor’s eyes:

“Let’s go upstairs Walter.” He suggested gently, and Walter’s fists clenched again on a reflex he didn’t even know he had.

“Not until you give them back!” 197 shot back, pushing aside the swirlings of emotion that rose within him as he heard a quiet gasp from Paige.

Relenting under Toby’s answering stare, Walter suddenly realised where he was and what he was doing. Agony must have flashed across his face because Toby’s features softened and his lips parted in readiness to speak. Walter fled.

As he reached his loft, his ears caught the whispered conversation that followed his departure; sharp hearing picking out Cabe’s comforting of a distressed-sounding Paige, the anxiety-driven clicking of Sylvester’s Rubik cube, Toby’s ‘well go ahead’ and accompanying sigh followed by the distinctive thump of Happy’s boots on the stairs behind him. Great.

"Walter." Her voice was as hard as steel, eyes cold and mouth set in an unforgiving line. Mr 197 gulped. Oh _crap_.

He turned to face her and they both stood still, a standoff until one could brave speaking. Unusually, Walter broke first.

"Happy-" he began, placating and desperate.

"I get it." she cut him off, avoiding his gaze as he froze, staring at her in shock. He hadn't seen that coming.

"W-what?"

"I get it." She shrugged. "Not the bleeding part, that you might need to explain - Doc tried but..."

Walter's mouth opened and closed like a fish as he scrabbled for words.

"But having something that helps, that gives you control?" She was so tentative, so unsure but doing her best to help: so unHappy-like that Walter was speechless. "I get that." She shrugged again, still not looking him in the eye. "And having that taken away? Without having any say in the matter - I get that too." She paused then, eyes unfocused like she was buried in her memories, then concluded with another shrug: "But surely you understand why, Walter." Finally she met his gaze and Walter's brain short-circuited at the raw emotion he could see there; her honesty and open-vulnerability shook him and his mouth opened but no words came out.

She left him there, gaping and numb, backing away and retreating downstairs once more; some part of him registering the near-hysterical pitch her voice reached as she talked with the team.

Then he moved, as if underwater, shuffling to his bed; where he lay atop the covers still-clothed and stared blankly into the middle distance until sleep came. It was not quick.

When he awoke, the vague peace of sleep sliding from him as the blanket did when he sat up, he realised he was not alone.

"Paige?" he murmured, hushed by the stillness of the night that surrounded him. He turned sluggishly to view her, asleep in a chair that had been dragged to his bedside.

The deep silence unending, he stood as if in a dream and walked towards her - suddenly overwhelmed by a need for closeness and the security of being held by another human being. Then she shifted in her slumber, mumbling something unintelligible and twisting a little onto her side; and the dream was over. Fully awake, Walter stood in the shadows and observed her - her gentle breathing like a soothing rhythm to his fiercely beating heart and the whirring of his brain. Decision reached, he quietly grasped a blanket from his bed and softly, delicately, draped it over her sleeping form. Then he backed away, leaving her to her rest and her peace.

The genius tiptoed down the stairs and across the garage to the door, then he was gone: out into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Better cliffhanger for you?!? Mwahahaha. 
> 
> Have a nice day!


End file.
